Learning to Live Again
by DJ Sparkles
Summary: The war is over. The Knights are free. What on Earth will they do now? ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! No Slash. DISCONTINUED.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters in this story. The King Arthur legends belong to themselves, and the characters as they are portrayed here were conceived by the moviemakers of Touchstone Pictures and Jerry Bruckheimer Films. I'm not making any profit from this work of fiction, I'm just having a good time and hopefully providing some entertainment for others. I promise to return all canon characters when I'm through with them. Original characters contained in this fiction are the creations of either myself or my roommate AJ and we'd like to be consulted before they are used elsewhere.**

**Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! That means that some of the faces, features, and facts presented in the movie are not quite the same. **

**Dedications: To my tireless and energetic beta reader, Ithil-valon. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your unswerving support, and for convincing me I really didn't want to give this movie a miss! To AJ, whose tireless support and endless brainstorming helped me write this. I literally couldn't have done this without you!**

**And to all my loyal reviewers: I hope you enjoy this story as much as you enjoy my others! Let me know what you think! Flames, though, will be used to heat the house with.**

**Chapter One**

Tristan woke and looked up from his position on the ground, somewhat surprised to find that he was still breathing. He'd thought he'd breathed his last when the blade had come down that last time; apparently, it had only stunned him and sent him reeling to the ground. Only wakefulness hadn't really improved his situation. He was going to be dead, if he didn't find help soon. The fighting had stopped, at least in his area. He tried to rise, but the effort was too great.

After so long dealing death to others, he found he no longer wanted her embrace for himself. He tried again to get to his feet, but his legs wouldn't hold him. Damn it all, where was Arthur? Where were the others? He was getting weaker; if they didn't find him soon, he _would_ die. "Arthur!" he called, but he doubted his voice could be heard too far away; it was weakening as well.

He heard someone near. Maybe he wouldn't die just yet after all. "Arthur!" he managed just a bit more volume.

Andrel slowly worked his way through the bodies, stealing what he could. So far, it hadn't been a very profitable venture, but one never knew. He looked up sharply when he thought he heard a voice and saw one of the knights nearby, horribly wounded. He looked down at the dead body and then over at the knight again, as though weighing his options, and then nodded to himself. He ran over to the knight's side and put a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. "Here sir, I'll help you." He shifted so he had a clearer view of the battlefield, looking for Arthur.

"Go get help, boy." Tristan answered softly. It was taking all the strength he had merely to keep breathing. His eyes slipped closed again and he forced them back open. Sleeping would not be a good thing; he might never wake up.

Andrel looked him over and nodded. "If I leave you, you might bleed to death," he said softly. He put both hands over Tristan's chest to try and stop the bleeding. "Help!" he cried out, putting real volume behind his voice. "Someone help!"

Gawain gave a start of surprise and looked up from the dead when he heard the voice. He moved as quickly toward Andrel as he could, skidding to a stop next to his wounded friend. "Bors, Dag! It's Tristan!" He gave thanks absently to his gods along the way for finding the man alive. "Help me get him inside. You, boy, you come with us and we'll see you fed and housed for the night."

Andrel nodded firmly and moved so Gawain could get close to Tristan, though he kept close. "Your friends are here," he murmured reassuringly. "They'll help you." He feared, though, that the Knight was beyond hearing.

Bors and Dag quickly took up the fallen man and carried him into the fortress, taking him to his room and laying him carefully upon the coverlet. Gawain turned once more to the boy. "You've done a good thing, lad. Now let's get some food into you. There's no meat on your bones." He ruffled the lad's hair gently before taking him out into the common area.

Andrel took in his surroundings, shock making his eyes wide. "What will I do here?" He tried to hide himself behind Gawain. "This place is so big! I know. Maybe I can go search for more of the living?" He took a tentative step toward the fortress gates.

Gawain laughed softly at Andrel's discomfort. "I'm sure we'll find work for you tomorrow. Tonight, you are a guest." He gave a quick glance around the tavern, looking for who knew what. "Besides, it's drawing on nightfall and not all the Saxons are dead. You'll be safer inside tonight." He finally found who he was looking for. "Emma! This boy saved Tristan. He needs a hot meal and a place to sleep. See to it, won't you? We'll find work for him tomorrow."

Emma nodded briskly and smiled. "Come with me, then, and we'll get you settled," she said firmly. She gave Gawain's departing back a wistful glance and then turned her attention back to the waiting boy. "Come on, then. I think I know where to put you." She turned her attention for a moment. "Arianna! You're needed."

She turned back to the boy. "Go on with you. The bath house is that way. And come see me when you're done to get something hot to eat." She resolutely turned her attention from Gawain; it didn't do any good to pine after the man. The women he took to his bed were beautiful to a fault. He'd never notice a plain, mousy thing like herself.

Andrel nodded. "You just take care of the Knight." He ducked his head and scurried for the bath, hoping to get clean in peace.

Arianna looked up from her work in the stillroom and frowned. "Most of the wounded were already tended." Nonetheless, she grabbed up her satchel and followed Emma to Tristan's bedside.

Tristan was fighting to stay awake, the pain fading from his wounds and leaving him blessedly, blessedly numb. He knew that wasn't a good sign, because it meant he was weakening. At least his eagle, Oxus, was free. She wouldn't feel the need to come back and stay by his body until she too passed beyond the veil. He found himself losing the battle, though, and his thoughts kept returning to her. At least she was free…

Arianna was shouting orders at the Knights who were clustered around their friend before she was completely in the room. "Don't just sit there like bumps on a log. I need hot water and lots of bandages. Get them. Move!" She stabbed a finger at Gawain. "You, help me with his armor." She slapped Tristan's face lightly to get his attention. "No fair sleeping just yet."

Tristan was barely conscious, lost in his past. The taps on his face became the slaps his father had given him. "Killing is second nature to you, boy." He heard again the sneers of the elders, the hatred in their voices. "It was an accident," he whispered. "An accident…"

Arianna sighed and began to clean his wounds. "Of course it was an accident," she murmured softly as she packed each wound with herbs to cleanse the poisons from him. "You can't rest, not until I'm certain I've tended everything." She took clean water and began to bathe him from head to toe.

Tristan thrashed under her hands, still lost in the past. He had meant no harm to Dathom. The boy had been his friend! One bright morning, they had taken their long knives to hunt wild hares and decided instead to see which was the better swordsman. It had been over before it began.

He had taken the boy home, his face lined with sorrow though no one noticed in the fuss caused by the death. His father had cuffed him in the head, sending him to the ground. "What have you done?"

"It was an accident, Father!" Tristan cried out as he hit the ground hard. He certainly hadn't meant to nick that big vein in Dathom's neck. But he had, and the boy had been dead within a matter of minutes, despite Tristan's best efforts to stop the bleeding.

His father had turned deaf ears to his son's pleading and Tristan was scarred for life by the repeated accusation that he had taken pleasure in the killing. He was the best hunter in the village, but that didn't mean he enjoyed killing things. And this, this was far different. This was no innocent hare, to be skinned and stewed. This was his friend, that he would never speak to or hunt with again.

"You're a killer, Tristan, and you always will be." His father's taunts whirled through his head again. "I'll be glad when the Romans come for you. At least we'll know you won't kill one of us."

Tristan had turned his back on all that was gentle and good in his life on that day. Who could enjoy the gentle things, the beautiful things, when there was such darkness within them? Not him. His father's words had shaped him into what he was today, a hardened killer.

Perhaps it was time that his life ended. He thought again of Oxus, his eagle, the one bright spot in a very dark life. She had her freedom… maybe now it was time for him to find his. But something kept pulling him back from the welcoming darkness…

Arianna growled at his movement and motioned for the other Knights to hold him down. This wasn't going to be pleasant; the wounds had to be sealed or he'd bleed to death. It was a wonder he hadn't already. She applied the hot iron methodically, trying to ignore the sounds of protest forced from a throat already sore. Had he intentionally been courting death? It was a marvel he hadn't found it from some of these wounds. She would have thought that with his new-found freedom, he would have been fighting for his life even harder.

Tristan struggled harder when the Knights took hold of him, still lost in his memories. Had they come to punish him finally? The thought gave him pause and he subsided, letting them do as they wished with him. A sound drew his attention and he managed to turn his head, finding his way inch by inch out of the fog in his head. The cry of an eagle, thin and high up, drew him and his memories faded into wisps of nothing. At least she was free… and he was still alive.

Arianna motioned the others back and leaned over to look in Tristan's eyes. "I have something for you to drink. It will help you heal. Will you try?" She held his head and put the cup to his lips. He didn't have the strength to even nod; he just sipped the liquid until she removed the cup. The eagle cried out again and he managed a tiny smile as he let the darkness finally take him.

Arianna sighed and turned her attention to the other Knights. "All we can do now is wait. His wounds are horrible, but I think if he wishes to, he will live. I'll stay with him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters in this story. The King Arthur legends belong to themselves, and the characters as they are portrayed here were conceived by the moviemakers of Touchstone Pictures and Jerry Bruckheimer Films. I'm not making any profit from this work of fiction, I'm just having a good time and hopefully providing some entertainment for others. I promise to return all canon characters when I'm through with them. Original characters contained in this fiction are the creations of either myself or my roommate AJ and we'd like to be consulted before they are used elsewhere.**

**Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! That means that some of the faces, features, and facts presented in the movie are not quite the same. **

**Dedications: To my tireless and energetic beta reader, Ithil-valon. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your unswerving support, and for convincing me I really didn't want to give this movie a miss! To AJ, whose tireless support and endless brainstorming helped me write this. I literally couldn't have done this without you!**

**And to all my loyal reviewers: I hope you enjoy this story as much as you enjoy my others! Let me know what you think! Flames, though, will be used to heat the house with.**

**Chapter Two**

Tristan woke, a little disoriented. Where was he? A slight movement of his head reminded him. He had been carried here from the battlefield, barely alive.

He was parched. Had someone stayed by his side? He was too weak to turn his head any further to check. Gods above, how had he survived?

Arianna looked over at Tristan and noticed that he was awake. "Ah I see you've come back to the land of the living, Tristan." She picked up a mug from a nearby table and helped him to drink from it. "Can you speak? I will retrieve Arthur if you have need of him."

Tristan managed a weak whisper. "Not yet." He could barely hold his eyes open. "Weak. How bad?"

Arianna adjusted the pillows behind his back so that he could sit up and be fed some broth. "You have a hole in your calf from an arrow and large gash in your left arm that will take some time to heal. Lots of minor bruising and cuts. Your armor stopped most of the damage from the chest wound, but it is serious enough. But since you are awake you are alive and that counts for a lot I hope." She washed his face off with a cool cloth before offering him a spoon full of broth. "This should help you rebuild your strength." She smiled at him her eyes twinkling. "By the way you should look over to your right." She motioned toward the eagle that had returned during the night and had made a large amount of noise until she had been reunited with her master.

Tristan gave a weak smile. He had set her free, yet she had come back to him. "Oxus," he whispered.

He ate the broth obediently, desperately trying to keep his eyes open until she decided he had taken enough. He was so tired!

Arianna frowned as she noticed he couldn't stay awake. "I think you've eaten enough. Perhaps it's time for you to rest some more. You're still weak from blood loss. You're lucky to be alive. I heard that a boy found you out on the battlefield. If he hadn't we would be attending to your funeral." She smiled at him gently as she placed a cool cloth on his forehead.

Tristan had no strength to nod; he was a man of few words, a movement of his head usually sufficed. This weakness of his was fast becoming an irritant. Other sensations began to make themselves felt, though; her hands were gentle and she wasn't all that hard to look at, either. "My thanks, my lady," he said softly.

She smiled at him and tisked. "You're welcome, although you have done most of the work in healing. All I've done is make certain you had the chance to return." She ducked her head and blushed as she noticed his eyes had warmed slightly. "Would you care to see your friends? I'm certain they are very anxious to make certain that you are among the living. Just know I won't let them give you any ale until I know that it won't go straight to your head."

Tristan gave up. Of course, his friends would want to see him. He managed a tiny nod. "Yes," he whispered. He noticed her blush and smiled to himself. Perhaps... perhaps, once he was healed, he could find if that warmth extended to... other areas.


End file.
